Work Text:
“So who’s this guy again?” Darcy rolled over onto her stomach on the bed and adjusted her hold on her phone.
Jane’s voice was tinny through the speaker. “Steve. We grew up together. Remember when you came to Thanksgiving at my mom’s apartment?”
“Yeah.”
“He lived three doors down.” Jane sounded stressed. Darcy looked at the calendar– April 29. Finals prep, probably. “We’re not really in close contact anymore, but his mom and my mom are friends, yadda yadda yadda. You know.”
Darcy kicked her legs. “Yep, sure do.”
“Anyway, sounds like he’s finally out of the army. Though I guess the way Mom tells it, he resigned his commission in protest.”
Darcy shifted herself to sit up. “Shit, really?”
“Yeah, we don’t know exactly what happened but his partner– different unit– lost an arm–”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah tell me about it. And the powers that be– Command, the VA, all of them– are doing fuck-all about it.”
“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?”
“Basically.” The scorn in Darcy’s voice was mirrored in Jane’s.
“I mean,” Darcy ran a hand through her hair. “I could run this up the chain at work? D-A-D-T has been on our issues list for ages.” She mentally listed out everything on her agenda for her morning meeting with Phil. She could tack this on the end, easy-peasy. It was even in her wheelhouse– she was Legislative Director.
“Sure, Senator Fury taking up the case would be awesome, but honestly, Steve likes to do things on his own, y’know? Well, he did when he was twelve, anyway.” Jane took a breath. “I just think he should have a friend, since he’s in a new city and James is still stuck in rehab at Walter Reed.”
Darcy laughed. “If you didn’t already tell me that he has a boyfriend, I’d think you were trying to set me up.”
“I mean, it’s a platonic set up? Ah, shit. Someone’s beeping in– I gotta go. Listen, I’ll text you his number later, okay?”
***
Hey, this is Darcy Lewis. Jane Foster gave me your number.
Heard you’re new in town.
Wanna grab coffee sometime and get a tour of the city?
***
The National Gallery of Art was empty, but Darcy didn’t expect anything different from a random Tuesday in February. This was on her calendar as a meeting, which wasn’t a complete lie. She and Steve would probably talk about James– Bucky– again, so it would mostly count. They meandered through the Pompeii exhibit as Steve talked about his brief stint at Camp Darby and how he was able to travel around Italy between his tours to Iraq.
“Herculaneum is better,” he said as they made their way to another exhibit. “More intact, a little less touristy.”
“Noted,” Darcy said. “I’ve never really had the chance to travel. First, it wasn’t enough money– entry level pay in the Senate is shit and I had to have four roommates to make ends meet.” She laughed and shook her head. “And now that I’m making a decent wage, I don’t have the time to do more than a long weekend somewhere.”
Steve laughed along with her. “Price you pay for being a director.”
They stopped in front of a 19th Century painters kit on display in the “Tools of the Trade” gallery. “I wanted to be an artist,” he commented quietly. “Life got in the way, I guess.”
Darcy glanced around the room to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard. Talking business in public could be risky. “I got you meetings with most of the members on Armed Services. Sitwell’s and Rumlow’s people are still dodging my calls.” She fished out a paper with the details from her purse and handed it to him.
Steve took it and skimmed the information. “Darce, this is–”
Darcy interrupted him. “Steve, we’re friends. Friends help each other, and since working in politics has completely pickled my brain, this is how I’m helping. This is worth trading favors for. Bucky is worth it.”
He swallowed and looked away. Darcy gave him a moment, then gave him a distraction. “How do you feel about sushi? I still have time blocked on my calendar, and it’s almost lunch.”
Steve cleared his throat and tucked the paper into his pocket. “Sushi sounds good.”